You Are Not Alone
by Brittany Diamond
Summary: When Christine thinks she's getting past what happened, a letter arrives saying that the Phantom has died. She returns to Paris only to find more than she bargained for. EC, twists, romance, drama, passion, tension, and, of course, Phantom. COMPLETE.
1. Chapter 1: A Letter From Paris

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Chapter One:

Christine Daae walked through the tranquil French town of Provence, trying to lose herself in the humble beauty of the place. It had been Raoul's idea they leave Paris for a while to get away from what happened, and a decent idea it was, but even after four months of living simply among the villagers there was a still a part of her that lingered in Paris. She had yet to admit this to Raoul, who was working despite the vacation setting, and didn't think she ever would. If she brought up any doubts or regrets about the events that took place within the Opera Populaire he'd surely blame it on Madame Giry's presence.

After the investigation, Meg seemed to drop out of existence, and nearly all life drained out of Madame Giry, leaving her sullen and hollow. When Christine told her she was taking some time off in Provence with Raoul after the wedding, Giry gracefully pleaded to follow them after a few weeks had been allowed for their honeymoon. Christine couldn't turn her down, and neither could Raoul, so Giry joined the newlyweds and took care of Christine when the new groom had to work.

Giry ended up being the perfect companion for Christine, for she was the only one who could come close to understanding the spell she had been under. For the first couple of months it had been all they talked about, tirelessly going over detail after detail, analyzing every moment until they each had almost identical pictures of what had happened underneath the opera house.

Christine found her way back to the humble, but lavish, cottage that they had rented out from a kind old French couple, and went around to the back so she could walk through the garden before entering the house. As she entered and her eyes took in the breathtaking flowers and fountains, she tried to let the warm sun relax her muscles through her simple day dress. Sitting at the third fountain she came across, which was tucked away and unable to be seen from the cottage's deck, she let her fingertips dangle absently in the lukewarm water, her gaze settled on a particular patch of sunflowers off in a corner.

"I thought I saw you come this way."

She smiled at the sound of the soft, accented voice. "By now you probably don't even have to see me. You know me too well, Madame."

Giry, in her usual black attire, settled herself in front of Christine, her eyes kind. "You can't stay here forever, Christine, you have to go back into the world someday."

The ingénue nodded and looked past the woman. "I know."

"It's been months…"

"I'm just…not ready yet."

"What else is there left to forget?" Giry asked, shifting her weight.

Try as she might, at that moment, Christine couldn't help but think of him. "There's nothing left," she lied, "I'm just not ready to be pushed back into the spotlight. Raoul understands this."

"Raoul will agree with you no matter what you say," Giry replied, glancing away for a moment. "I've noticed something," she began, leaning in a little closer, "and don't you dare deny it. You still think about him."

She shrugged nervously. "Of course I do."

"No," Giry insisted, stopping Christine's hand from moving through the water, "you don't think of him with sadness or pity, I can see it in your eyes."

She pulled away from her teacher's touch. "Raoul would have mentioned…"

"Raoul wouldn't dare. Tell me why you still think fondly of him, there must be a reason."

Of all the things she had confided in Giry, Christine had yet to confess what the woman asked now. She swallowed hard and let her eyes wander back to the sunflowers. "I suppose…I don't know why, but…"

"He still has a hold over you."

She bit her lip and tried to hide her emotion. "I broke his heart, Madame. I left him defeated, and alone."

"He tricked you, cherie, deceived you…"

"He loved me. He didn't know any better, he'd been alone so long and had only been treated with cruelty…and the one thing he wanted…I took away…"

"You've never spoken like this before."

"I was afraid too. I _am_ afraid too."

Giry held the girl's hand in both of her own. "It was all magic, my dear, nothing more. He saw talent in you and wanted it, that is all."

This was where Giry's understanding failed. "You weren't there, you didn't see him," Christine insisted, pulling away and standing up, "There was no magic, no illusions, no deception…just him."

"You can't believe that. He was a master at everything he ever did, even if it _seemed_ like he let his guard down…"

"Stop it," she said with a small sigh, "please. You'll never know."

It was Giry's turn to stand. "What about Raoul? Does he know your regrets?"

"Regrets? I don't regret anything," she defended, "I feel guilty, that's all."

An interruption. "Madame! Are you there?"

Raoul appeared from around the corner, holding an envelope. "Ah, Madame, this has just arrived from Paris. No sending address, I'm afraid."

As Giry took the letter and opened it, casually turning her back for privacy, Raoul noticed that his wife seemed troubled. He stepped forward and took her gently in his arms.

"Darling?" he asked, tone laced with concern, "What's the matter?"

She bowed her head and smiled sweetly. "Nothing's the matter. Madame and I were just having a close conversation."

He bought her lie and kissed her forehead. "Marienne is almost finished with supper."

"I'll be there in a moment."

He smiled and left the women alone as Christine noticed that Giry had yet to turn around. She took a cautious step towards her teacher, her brow furrowing with worry.

"Madame?" she asked gently, "Is it the letter? What's happened?"

Giry slowly turned and faced the young woman, obviously struggling to keep her appearance normal. Despite her efforts, tears escaped from her eyes and Christine knew something was horribly wrong.

Giry offered the letter to Christine. "It's not signed," was all the ballet instructor could get past her throat.

With a shaky hand, she took the letter from Giry and held it up so she could read it. The sense of fast approaching doom reached its peak and crashed against Christine as her eyes took in the words.

_Dearest Madame,_

_It is with a humble, heavy heart that I must inform you of the Opera Ghost's passing due to illness. In his final will he requested that one Christine Daae came to the catacombs under the Opera Populaire as soon as possible to accept a few items that he wished she keep._

Christine placed her free hand on her stomach and sat on the fountain, her eyes staring at the ground but not seeing the grass. Fighting to breathe, she gripped the letter tighter as she felt a wave of grief knock her off balance. She leaned forward and sobbed, her hair falling beside her face and hiding her tears. Giry had turned away again, her hand at her mouth, quick to wipe away any water that had somehow dripped out of her eyes.

In a weak, wavering voice Christine said, "I have to go. I have to leave tonight."

"Have you gone mad?" Giry asked in a surprisingly calm tone, "You can't go back to the opera house. Someone wrote that letter, so someone must be waiting for you."

"It's probably a lawyer."

"With no sending address or signature?"

Christine stood and straightened up, fixing her hair and wiping her tears. "I won't argue about this. I'm going to Paris tonight, right after dinner. I owe him that much at the very least."

"What will you tell Raoul?"

She only hesitated for a moment. "As far as he's concerned, your letter was an invite to train aspiring ballerinas for an upcoming production. I've decided to audition for the lead of that production. Simple as that."

Christine left the garden with her head high, and her heart aching. Acting was her strong suit, and four months in Provence hadn't made her forget that fact.

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Raoul, Christine, and Giry sat around the dinner table, eating quietly. Christine ignored any glances the ballet instructor threw at her, and when she felt the time was right, she cleared her throat and set down her fork.

She smiled warmly at Raoul. "Giry's been asked to train some girls for a new production in Paris."

He brightened up and looked at Giry, "Well, Madame, congratulations. It's about time you started working again."

"No," Christine corrected kindly, "she doesn't want the job, but I want to audition for the lead. I leave tonight."

The surprise on his face was more than prevalent. "Do you think you're ready to go back to Paris?"

"I think I'm ready to try."

"Well then," he said, sitting back in his chair, "we leave tonight."

"I want to go alone."

His joyful expression faltered. "Why alone? You need me there, Christine."

"I want to try this by myself. If I can handle that, I can handle working again."

Raoul took a minute to think quietly, then said, "If that's really what you want, I trust you know what's best." Christine leapt from her chair with joy and threw her arms around his neck. "Oh go on," he said, laughing, "the last train leaves in half an hour."


	2. Chapter 2: An Unexpected Presence

**Side Note: **I remembered that I had a different ending to this chapter in mind, so I added a little over half a page to the end 'cause I really liked my original idea.

**Chapter Two: An Unexpected Presence**

Christine walked out of the train station in Paris with so many knots in her stomach it was becoming difficult to swallow. Carrying her one small bag, she moved through the hoards of people with her head down to avoid being recognized. Even though four months had passed, the papers had printed story after story speculating on the fire that decimated the Opera Populaire, and the rising star who vanished after the event. The chances of her being singled out were still fairly good, so she kept herself as hidden as possible.

She knew the way to the opera house by heart and let her feet do all the work while her mind raced. He was gone. He was actually gone. She had, unknowingly, thrown him away as if he had been nothing at the end of his life. He died alone. The guilt that had haunted her before consumed her now. How could she betray such a passionate, devoted genius? Giry had told her the story of his childhood a long while ago, so she understood his thoughts now. He had learned that murder solved problems at a young age, with no one there to correct him. That doesn't excuse him from his actions, but it makes him a whole lot harder to despise knowing he hadn't learned any better.

He had learned, though, she had seen it in his broken eyes the night she left him for good. After their first, and last, embrace, behind the tears, was a crushing understanding. Did she realize the revelation he'd gone through in that one moment before leaving? No. She didn't figure out why he had suddenly let her go until weeks later, after reliving the moment for the hundredth time. Once she did, however, to say she felt idiotic was a vast understatement. Her feelings of shame and stupidity only increased as time went by, and now they had doubled in weight and size, nearly crushing her.

Raoul wasn't helping her forget the opera house any faster, despite his efforts. Whatever she said, he agreed to. Whatever she wanted, he did his best to provide. These weren't necessarily negative traits, but when the relationship started to become one sided conversations about nothing in particular, it made her question their love. She adored him, yes, and everything he had done for her, and she knew he loved her with everything he could possibly muster, but he didn't stand up as a person. He'd save her in a heartbeat, then walk on eggshells to make sure she's never put in a mood other than bliss. There was nothing behind his eyes but a puppy wanting to please its master.

Christine found herself walking into the Opera Populaire without stopping or looking around. If she hesitated now, she'd never make it. The crumbling, destroyed building was covered with dust and debris. It was not the thriving epicenter of music it had once been, but bare bones that only slightly resembled its wondrous past.

She moved about the opera house, fighting the overwhelming urge to cry. So much creativity and talent had graced this building that it tore her up to see it gray and lifeless.

All of this because of her.

Holding her hand at her mouth to keep her emotion in check, she walked down the center aisle, her eyes fixed on only one thing. As she stepped toward the object, she couldn't help but remember every moment she had ever spent under this roof, as both a child and a young woman. Most of her life had been spent here, and now she was standing before the most glorious object she had ever seen, and always cherished.

The fallen chandelier.

Dwarfed by the incredible work of art, she slowly reached out and let her fingertips graze the crystal. Everything overpowered her then as she dropped her bag, covered her face, and openly sobbed for every life she had destroyed, every mistake she had made.

She only let herself grieve for a minute or two before sucking it all back in, wiping her eyes, picking her bag up, and heading off to the dressing room.

As she closed the door behind her, the mere sight of the mirror sent dull chills through her body. She set down her bag, looking around at the dark, lavish room as if she'd never seen it before. Now standing in the middle of the room, she stared at the full length mirror, preparing herself to step through it one more time. A part of her was pushing her forward, telling her that she's wanted to be here again for months now and now she's here, while another part pulled her back, arguing that to see the place again would ruin the dream.

Taking a deep breath, she stepped toward the mirror.

The glass slid aside suddenly, and she gasped.

A woman with long blonde hair entered the room, her face solemn and her dress plain.

Christine squinted her eyes to see through the darkness. "Meg?" she asked uncertainly.

"I thought you would have forgotten me," a quite voice replied.

Elation seizing her heart, Christine rushed to her friend and hugged her tightly, tears of joy welling up in her eyes. "We had no idea where you were, we all thought you were dead!"

Meg feebly returned the embrace. "I stayed here, that's all."

A realization began to dawn on Christine, and she took a step back to look her friend in the face. "You sent the letter?"

"Yes," she answered, looking her dead in the eye.

"You've…been with him, all this time?"

"When my mother left he needed someone to depend on."

Christine fought back the tidal wave of mixed emotions that threatened to drown her and changed the subject. "Where are the things he wanted me to have?"

Meg remained gravely serious as she picked up a candle from the vanity, struck a match she had with her, and lit it. "Everything is at the organ."

Without explaining anything further, the blonde girl went back through the mirror, assuming Christine would follow, and she did. The young women walked through the damp corridors and down the spiral walkway in silence, with only the soft circle of light from the candle to penetrate the darkness.

When they arrived at the gondola and Christine got in first, she felt her chest tighten. Meg pushed the gondola along the same route Christine had taken over half a year ago, and as she did, memories rushed back to the ingénue. Simply remembering his voice lulled her into a light trance, consuming her thoughts until they arrived at the gate, which opened once Meg reached out to the wall and pulled a lever. The girl had gotten incredibly strong, Christine could see it in her arms and in her demeanor, no doubt a result from being around him for so long. A stab of jealousy stung her stomach, and she tried to ignore it.

They entered the lair at last, only this time no candles were lit, nothing rose from the water, no life existed in the place she had once felt so alive in. Meg docked the gondola in the usual place and didn't offer Christine a hand as she got out of the small boat.

"The things are right over here," Meg said in an all-business tone, heading toward the organ.

"Can I look around for a minute, first?" Christine asked, her eyes wandering around from place to place.

Meg seemed to be thrown by the question. "That wasn't what he had in mind."

Christine looked at her friend with a faintly distraught expression. "I don't think that matters much anymore, Meg."

"Fine, look around," Meg said with a huff, leaning up against the cave wall near the organ.

Christine turned her back on her friend and slowly walked about the lair, ascending the small set of stairs while carefully taking in the details. She wanted to remember every candle, every curtain, every-

The mirrors were broken.

Her eyes widened as her hand absently reached out to touch the cracked glass, unsure of what she was seeing. They were obviously broken deliberately, but when did he do it? Why did he do it? She didn't want to ask Meg, even though he was gone it felt like a question that was too personal to discuss with anyone else.

She ripped her gaze away from the destroyed glass and she walked down the stairs on the other side, curious to find out if the mannequin was still there. Looking around the corner, her heart ached to find that it was, and the veil was back in its place. The dress was gone, of course, Raoul had made her get rid of it the second they were out, but everything else was the same. Turning away from the mannequin, she glanced back up to the platform she had just descended from.

Her breath caught in her chest.

A single candle was now aflame.

Drifting through the air, she heard an all-too familiar sing-song tone. "_Christine_…"

She looked over at Meg, who simply rolled her eyes and turned away. One hand now on her stomach to try and keep her breathing steady, Christine turned and looked past the room with the mannequin, to the last flight of stairs that led to the final room.

"_Christine_…"

Cautiously, she climbed the stairs and stepped around the corner. The swan bed was still there, in all its glory, with the black lace curtain hanging down over it. Her eyes went wide at the sight of a human form that stood between the curtain and the bed.

The curtain lifted, revealing the Phantom of Opera as if not a day had passed since she'd left him.

Christine let out a gasp of surprise, covering her mouth and taking a step back. He began to walk toward her, his grace and majesty still fully intact.

"Forgive the deception," he began, staring at her from behind his infamous white mask, "it was the only way to set things right."

As he advanced, she backed up and knocked a candle into the water, yelping at her mistake while trying to keep herself from visibly shaking. She wrung her hands, looking from left to right, reluctant to meet his heavy, penetrating gaze. He calmly emerged from the open bedroom, and before she could blink every candle in the lair lit up with such vibrance that it blinded her for a moment. Noticing that he was still approaching, she turned her back on him, barely able to take everything in.

His smooth voice, though not directed to her, still sent the same strong signal through her chest and stomach. "Meg, you are no longer needed tonight."

With her sight set on the water below her, she listened as Meg walked passed the Phantom with a huff and disappear through a hidden door in the open bedroom, shutting the door with noticeable firmness.

"I knew there was no other way to have you return," he said, his presence drawing closer to her with each passing second, "and I knew how upsetting this would be for you, considering your opinion of me. Yet, I felt I needed to see you one last time. I can't bear you thinking me an animal, not after...everything..."

She took a deep breath before speaking in an attempt to balance her voice. "Is that...all you brought me here for?"

Now he was right behind her, his chest nearly grazing her back. "That is all I intended, yes." There was a long silence before he spoke, as if he needed the moment to draw up his courage. "Christine...I only want to know...that is...the only thing I ask of you is an answer. Just a spoken answer to my inquiry, nothing more."

She turned her head to speak over her shoulder, though didn't try to look at him. "Yes?"

His voice only faltered for a moment. "The last night I saw you...when you...I only want to know..." He placed his hand on her shoulder, his gloved fingertips gently resting on the exposed flesh of her neck. "That night..."

Her chest tightening at the feel of his hand on her, her breath went shallow, she became suddenly lightheaded, and her knees gave way, sending her forward over the water as her vision went black. She had fainted in the Opera Ghost's lair yet again.


	3. Chapter 3: One Last Wish

**Chapter Three: One Last Wish**

Christine bolted upright when she came around, remembering where she was and everything that had taken place. The black lace curtain was hanging down around the bed, giving her a degree of privacy. Instead of immediately getting up and looking around, as she had done before, she laid back down, trying to sort the millions of thoughts that were racing through her head. He was alive. He had lied to her to get her back in his lair, but why? To let her know that he had changed? It seemed like a lot of trouble just to clear his name, but the way he had spoken to her made it seem like he was telling the truth. What if he was? It meant nothing, especially since he had already admitted that making sure she understood that he was a changed man was all he had planned to do. All that was left to do was say goodbye and leave. Nothing else needed, or would, happen.

Her mind made up, she pulled the tassel to lift the curtain and got out of the swan bed, smoothing her hair and adjusting her dress. As she came to the edge of the open bedroom she realized that hushed words were being exchanged near the organ. Hiding herself at the doorway, she tilted her head to try and catch what was being said.

Meg's voice became clear first. "I just don't see why she's here," she said, her tone clearly unstable and emotional, "She tossed you away! She doesn't matter anymore."

"She knows why she's here, as do you," the Phantom replied, his voice dead even, "and might I remind you that I let you stay here only after you begged me. Watch your step, Meg, you know how quickly my patience runs out." A brief silence. "Now, leave through the curtain and don't make a sound. I don't want her disturbed."

Christine listened carefully as Meg left quietly, the only sound giving the girl away being the slight swish of whichever curtain she had gone through. She took a step back and straightened her posture, breathing deeply and reminding herself to stay rational and in control.

"You may come out now."

She jumped at his words, shocked that he knew of her eavesdropping. Her eyes cast downward, she stepped out into the lair, looking over toward the organ only after a few seconds of silent embarrassment.

He stood at the organ, his left hand resting on the solid wood of the instrument, and said, "I have a small favor to ask."

She said the first thing that came to her mind. "Why didn't I fall into the lake?"

"I caught you."

She shoved the image of her body in his arms to the back of her mind. "How long have I been asleep?"

He sat down at the organ, keeping his head turned so she could hear him. "Only four hours."

She began to make her way over to him. "What's this favor?"

"You don't have to agree. I won't force you to do something you do not wish to."

She swallowed hard, now only a few feet away from him. "Let me decide what I want to do."

He faced the organ's keys as she came up behind him, as if ashamed to be speaking. "Before you leave…could you sing for me? If I could hear your voice one last time, it would make your departure so much easier."

She smiled softly at his simple request. "You know I'd sing for you whenever you asked."

As she stepped forward to get a look at his face, she noticed a small, sorrowful grin tug at the corner of his mouth. The expression was enough to put her in tears, but she didn't dare show it. He reached up onto the organ and picked up something wrapped in a richly colored crimson silk, and set it down next to him.

"I would like for you to have this," he said quietly.

Before she made a move to accept the gift, she had to ask, "Why don't you turn to me? You had no trouble looking me in the eye when I first arrived."

He glanced up at the mirror above the organ for a moment, stealing a glance at her reflection, then looked away again. "I'd forgotten how much your presence affects me. I used to be able to face it, but after the night of the fire…"

He didn't need to say anymore. She was deeply moved that he felt so much shame over what had happened between them that now even looking at her was too much for him. For the second time in three minutes, she wanted to cry. Approaching the organ, she took her time in bending down and picking up the loosely wrapped gift, a pang of sadness hitting her when he turned his head away to keep from looking at her. The silk now in her hands, she pulled the corners back to reveal the same black mask he had worn for the few minutes they shared a stage together months ago.

The same mask she had ripped off as well.

Unable to find any proper words to say about the gift, all she said was, "Thank you."

He gently cleared his throat and changed the subject. "Do you wish to sing for me?"

She nodded without hesitation, looking from him to his reflection in the mirror. "Yes, of course, but I'll need my dressing room to choose a song a rehearse it. I haven't used my voice in quite some time."

When he didn't answer for a second, she rested her hand on his shoulder, "I won't run."

This time he turned and looked her in the eye. "I never suspected you to."

As he stood from the organ and made his way to the gondola, she couldn't help but stare at him with amazement. After everything she had done to him, he still trusted her completely. He faced her one more, but kept his eyes to the ground. His lack of confidence touched her heart, and she wouldn't forget how he expressed his regret in every movement he made.

He held out his hand to her. "I will take you to your dressing room."

Their route back to her dressing room had been taken in silence, and all the while she was extremely aware that, not only was he directly behind her pushing the gondola, but he was also staring at her whenever the chance presented itself. It didn't bother her. In fact, she felt the opposite, she wanted him to stare at her. She'd missed his adoring eyes, and she wanted nothing more than for him to look at her as he used to. They arrived at her dressing room, and while she fully entered the chamber, he remained at the mirror.

"When you have decided on the song and feel satisfied with your voice," he said, "come back to the gondola, Meg will be waiting. You can find your way alone now?"

She nodded. Without a goodbye, he left her alone. She sat at her vanity, bent over, and rested her head in her arms. He hadn't lied about changing, that was certain. The only reason he seemed to act the way he did, however, was because he felt so apologetic for what had happened. Didn't he realize that she had just as much of a reason to feel guilty as he did? He still treated her with the upmost respect, despite their history, and it blew her away.

Sitting up, she looked around the room. She could think about his motivation later, at the moment she needed to decide what to sing for him as her last performance for him.

_Was_ it her last performance?

The notion of staying flickered across her mind, and she went very still. Even with all the mixed emotions that lay between them, she could still feel his being, his _essence_, drawing her to him, now more than ever. They could be together forever, hidden away from the world with only each other and their music as company and solace. What a heaven that would be.

The faint smile that had drifted across her lips was blown away by the sound of the mirror sliding back. She stood up, her eyes glued to the moving glass. Was it him?

Meg stepped through the passageway, her expression cold and stern. "I have to talk to you," she stated flatly.

Christine took a step back on instinct. "Why?"

"Are you thinking about staying here?" Meg asked boldly, her posture rigid and her jaw set.

"I was..." Christine began, unable to hold her friend's gaze, "I was considering it."

"You can't," Meg ordered, "it would only confuse him more. He's fine now, really, he doesn't need you." She let a moment of silence pass before driving her argument home. "Besides, what would Raoul do?"

Christine bit the inside of her lip. Meg was right, all the passion in the world couldn't stop reality from crushing the dream. She couldn't stay with the Phantom, it would devastate Raoul and, after all he'd done for her, she couldn't leave him like that. As much as she hated to admit it to herself, she only had one option.

"You have my word," Christine promised, "I'll leave as soon as I sing for him."

Meg smiled for the first time since the ingenue had returned. "I'll be waiting at the gondola."


	4. Chapter 4: A Song Before Parting

**Chapter Four:**

An hour later Christine found herself sitting in the gondola once again, with Meg standing behind her, she tried to clear her mind and focus on the performance she was about to give. Once she knew she wasn't staying in the opera house, the matter of song choice had become incredibly easy. While actually singing it would be the most difficult thing she had ever attempted, there was a single song that fit the situation better than the one she had chosen.

The gondola glided into the lair and Christine's eyes immediately focused on the Phantom, waiting quietly for her by the organ. Without a word the boat came to a stop, he helped her out, and Meg turned the gondola around and left, looking over her shoulder more than a few times.

Christine took her place by the organ as the Opera Ghost sat on the bench, avoiding her eyes at all costs. He waited patiently for her to begin, staring at the mirror above the organ, his breathing just slightly shallow. She swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat and straightened her posture, her eyes fixed on the man in front of her as she began to sing.

"_Think of me_

_Think of me fondly_

_When we say goodbye_

_Remember me_

_Once in a while_

_Please promise me you'll try_

_When you find that once again you long_

_To take your heart back and be free_

_If you ever find a moment_

_Spare a thought for me"_

In the moment before she began the next verse she noticed his eyes slowly slide close and his breath become very slow and deep as if he was lost in his own world. He tilted his head back, but only slightly, and he went seamlessly into the next part of the song.

"_We never said our love was evergreen_

_Or as unchanging as the sea_

_But if you can still remember_

_Stop and think of me_

_Think of all the things we've shared and seen_

_Don't think about the way things might have been"_

She kept her head high so her voice wouldn't falter as she sang the rest of the song, looking away from him only when she thought her voice would crack from emotion if her gaze lingered. She came to the point in the song where she would stop, and found it increasingly difficult to maintain a solid note. She clasped her hands together in an attempt to keep her notes strong.

"_Recall those days_

_Look back on all those times_

_Tink of the things we'll never do_

_There will never be a day_

_When I don't think of you_"

The last note echoed throughout the lair and, in the next few heartbreaking moments of silence, she watched him open his eyes and slowly stand to face her, looking her in the eye for the first time since she arrived.

"You will never know," he began, his voice soft and lilting, "how much that meant to me."

He went to step toward her but her one whispered word halted him. "Stop."

Looking at him standing there beautiful, alive, elegant, and adoring while thinking of leaving him in darkness was too much to bear. To her surprise, when she opened her mouth to speak, she sang words she never thought she'd even ponder again.

"_Pitiful creature of darkness_

_What kind of life have you known?_

_God give me courage to show you_

_You are not alone!_"

Without hesitation she leapt into his arms and pressed her mouth onto his with every ounce of passion and fervor that she had kept locked away for so many months. Stunned by her actions, he went stiff at first, but then wrapped his arms around her and hugged her body to his, his lips parting to further explore the sensation that was sweeping through his frame. With her arms around his neck she pulled him closer, tears welling up in her eyes.

When they came apart, their faces stayed centimeters away from each other. A gentle smile flickered across her face as saw that tears had fallen from his joyful eyes.

He hesitated before he spoke as if his voice would shatter the moment, but then he swallowed hard and forced the words out of his throat. "All these months I...I regretted not holding you the last time you sang those words to me. I've been longing to have you in my arms." His mouth quivered as he fought back tears. "Christine..."

She gently grazed her fingertips over the hard mask that covered the right side of his face. Cautiously positioning her fingers, she went to lift the mask off. He grabbed her wrist and took a step back. She braced herself for the rage he was undoubtedly about to release, but all he did was stare at her, her muscles relaxed and she realized that, while he was no longer dependent on the mask and he knew better than anyone that it had no affect on her anymore, it had become more of an object of safety, a blanket of protection that keeps him secure. With her free hand, she reached forward and ran her fingertips up her chest, smiling softly with understanding. He relaxed his grip on her wrist and took her in his arms, her head resting on his shoulder, and held her to himself for a long while, relishing the feel of their two forms pressed together. At that moment, they both had all they ever dreamed of, and the feeling of satisfaction that comes with it was indescribable.

But a shadow was waiting nearby, watching them through envious, loathing eyes. The shadow snuck away the way it had come, already plotting a way to wrench the ingenue from the Ghost's arms once and for all.


	5. Chapter 5: Another Confrontation

**Author's Note: **There's one more chapter to follow this one, so don't think it's the end.

**Chapter Five:**

"_In sleep he sang to me, in dreams he came, that voice which calls to me and speaks my name. And do I dream again, for now I find the Phantom of the Opera is there, inside my mind._"

Christine leaned against the organ, facing the Opera Ghost as she sang along with his organ playing. She couldn't help but smile as she watched him play effortlessly and prepare to sing, his manner full of the same joy he'd been emanating since she told him she wanted to stay. He looked her in the eye, his happiness and rugged passion showing clearly in his voice. "_Sing once again with me, a strange duet. My power over you is stronger yet. And though you turn from me to glance behind, the Phantom of the Opera is there, inside your mind._"

She couldn't help but step toward him as she sang in return. "_Those who have seen your face draw back in fear. I am the mask you wear._"

"_It's me they hear_"

Their voices joined together in perfect unison, requiring little effort on their part. "_And in this labyrinth where night is blind, the Phantom of the Opera is there, inside my mind_."

They finished the song and, after she nailed the highest note at the end, they gazed at each other, both panting and breathless. She smiled faintly and reached out to him, gently touching the side of his face with the back of her left hand. He closed his eyes, relishing the feel of her fingertips on his skin, then covered her hand with his, turning his head so he could brush his lips against her tender flesh. She didn't know how much time had passed, and she didn't care. The world stopped in his lair, and everything outside his domain became meaningless.

Even though they were both endlessly blissful, she saw that he still emanated a certain degree of tragedy, and she imagined he always would. With a past as dark and convoluted as the Phantom's, it seemed only natural that his every movement carried a shadow, no matter how content he may be. This line of thinking brought a question to her mind.

She stood at his side now, letting his hands completely cover hers. "Do you have a name?"

He didn't look up at her. "Before Madame Giry saved me, people called me Erik."

"May I call you Erik?"

Now he peered up into her eyes. "I've wanted you to know my name for a long time now, Christine."

She pulled him up into a stance and pressed her cheek against his so her mouth would be close to his ear. "I love you," she murmured, "I love you, Erik."

He wrapped his arms around her. "I love you, Christine," he whispered in return.

They held each other for a long moment, both thinking that this was too amazing to be reality.

Water splashed in the distance.

The couple turned to find the source of the sound, still in each other's arms. The sound of sloshing water came closer with every passing second, and they both knew it was coming from the route the gondola took to enter and exit the lair. Erik hadn't closed the gate in a long time, he'd had no reason after the opera house caught fire. Now he was wishing he had. Instinctively, he turned his body so he shielded Christine, looking over his shoulder to identify the intruder.

When Raoul entered the lair, Christine thought she might faint.

Erik turned to face him, and block the man's view of his rose, his eyes sparking into flames. "Turn around. Leave us."

Raoul wasted no time as he continued to advance towards the couple. "Release her!" he demanded, raising his arm and aiming a pistol at Erik. "You will never have her!"

Christine felt Erik move to leave her and she gripped his shoulder. "Try not to hurt him." she begged, then she let him go.

Erik waded into the water, his arms out from his sides, taunting the intruder. "Take the shot, it's the only way you're leaving with her."

"Don't take me for a coward, freak," Raoul spat, closing the distance between him and his enemy, "I'm man enough to fire."

Erik met his eyes evenly. "She loves me."

"You've bewitched her!"

"Ask her yourself," the Phantom said, his voice heavy but perfectly calm.

"She'll say anything you want," Raoul snarled, "while she's under your spell."

Out of nowhere, Christine appeared between the two men, facing her husband, tears streaming down her face. "Raoul," she began, her voice quiet and shaking, "don't do this. You will never understand the love I have with him. Leave now, forget me. I'm safe." She took a deep breath to steady herself. "I'm happy."

With his gun still pointed at the Phantom, Raoul stared at Christine, his eyes giving away the numerous emotions that swirled violently within him. He seemed to decide his course of action a moment later, and he pushed Christine out of the way, burying his pistol into Erik's chest.

"Go Christine, now!" Raoul urged, cocking the gun.

Christine remained where she now stood, afraid to intervene. "Raoul, no." she pleaded.

Erik glanced at Christine, looking for permission. After only a moment's hesitation, she nodded her head. In a flash of movement the Phantom grabbed the gun and wrenched Raoul's wrist so hard it nearly snapped, forcing her husband onto his knees in the water. Erik pushed the barrel of the gun into Raoul's temple and held his position. Raoul was now frozen, the prey instead of the predator. Christine passed behind Erik and knelt before her spouse, a new wave of tears cascading from her eyes.

"Please," she beseeched, "just leave. You don't have to understand any of it, just go."

He looked into his wife's eyes with dogged determination. "He's a monster, Christine, a lunatic, a _murderer_. He doesn't love anything"

Erik pushed the barrel harder against Raoul's skull. "Erik," she said quickly, knowing how much the words must have stung.

Raoul's brow furrowed. "Erik?"

She ignored his inquiry. "You've done a lot for me, and I love you for it. Everything you've done, you've done with the best intentions, only concerned about my safety. I owe you so much, and I'm sorry it has to be like this." She held his face in her hands. "Give up. You're not fighting anything, your bravery is in vain. _Let me go_."

Tears welled up in Raoul's eyes. "As long as I breathe, I refuse to let him control you."

Christine let go of her husband and stood up, sorrow gripping her entire body and making her shudder. She turned her back and walked a few steps to put distance between them.

She closed her eyes. "I'm sorry."

Erik spoke then, his tone gentle, "Christine..."

"There's no other way," she stated, clenching her fists.

A single shot rang through the lair.

Christine rushed out of the water and sat the organ, doubling over in tears. He'd given her no choice. He would have fought Erik to the death and, in a way, he did. The frame of mind that saved her before had killed him now, and she couldn't help but be overwhelmed with guilt.

It seemed as if years had passed before she felt Erik's arms wrap around her and lift her up from her seat. He carried her to bed and laid her down, pulling the rope to let the lace curtain give her privacy. Sitting outside the bedroom, on the steps, he held his head in his hands and wept. He'd hoped he would never have to take a life again, not after he'd learned how much pain it caused. But she had asked him to, and he had understood why.

This thought did little to comfort either of them.


	6. Chapter 6: Think of Me

**Chapter Six:**

Christine lay curled in bed, the pit of her stomach rotting and twisting in her gut as she openly sobbed into her hands. This wasn't how she wanted it to be, not even in her nightmares. Raoul deserved to be happy, she couldn't provide the type of joy he was looking for, and he just couldn't see it. He had been completely devoted to her to the point where he was blinded by it, not unlike Erik a few months ago. The difference was that Erik had learned, he accepted it even though it tore him to shreds inside. She knew that, if Erik had held Christine to her ultimatum, Raoul would have been set free and returned with enough reinforcements to take out God. When she really thought about it, one of them dying was inevitable, but that scenario had never occurred to her until Raoul was on his knees in the water.

She rolled over and laid on her stomach to try and subdue her nausea, muffling the sounds of her crying with a pillow. She kept telling herself there was no other way, she knew there had been no alternative, but that didn't change the fact that a life had been taken, and she had been the one to, not let it happen, but command it to.

"He was a good man."

Christine bolted upright, more alarmed by the sudden break in the silence than she should have been, but her nerves were on edge. Meg stood at the bedroom's entrance, Erik still sitting on the stairs, and she was leaning her weight on her left leg.

The blonde haired ballerina cocked her head to one side. "I would've bet my life that you ended up with Raoul." She glanced over her shoulder, at the water. "I have to admit, I never thought I'd end up disposing of his body. What did I really expect, though? I'm the maid around here, after all."

Christine stood from the bed and went to Erik's side, who rose at the sight of her. There was a long moment of grieving between the lovers, as they gently held each other, not needing to utter a word.

A thought occurred to the ingenue then, a question that should have crossed her mind sooner. She slowly turned to face her friend, making sure that Erik was close behind her.

"Meg?" she began, terrified of what the answer could be, "How did Raoul know I was here?"

Meg tilted her chin up with icy pride. "I told him."

"But why?" Christine asked, biting back her fresh wave of emotion.

"Isn't it obvious by now, little lotte?" Meg scoffed bitterly. "Raoul comes to rescue you, you go off into the sunset, and I can be left to take care of my Phantom in peace."

Erik spoke up, his tone edged with danger. "You're the reason he's dead," he took a half step towards Meg, "you're the reason _his_ blood is on _my_ hands."

"No," Meg spat, "your precious Christine is the reason his blood is on your hands. She using you again and you're still too obsessed with her to see it."

"You had no place in this!" Erik shouted, making another advancement towards the blonde, "I should drag you out of here with my own two hands!"

Christine stepped towards Meg, blocking Erik. "Raoul was a good man, a kind man, he didn't deserve to die!"

"Then why did you have him killed?" Meg asked.

"I was left with no choice! _You_ left me with no choice!"

Erik bellowed from behind his love, "Give me a reason to grant you mercy, _any reason_!"

In a sudden blur of movement, Meg grabbed Christine by the hair and whirled her around, pulled a knife out of nowhere, and placed it threateningly under the ingenue's ribcage.

All the fight instantly drained out of Erik. "Meg..." he said cautiously, "...let her go."

Meg tightened her grip on Christine's hair, "I did it for _you_, can't you see that? You're a beautiful soul, you're _my_ beautiful soul. I've cared for you all this time, done everything you've ever asked me to." Tears of sorrow and fury welled in her eyes. "I deserve happiness for all I've done! I deserve to be loved by the man I adore!"

Erik put his hands out in front of him, to show he meant no harm. "You've always known where my heart lies, from the very beginning."

Christine swallowed hard, "Erik..."

Meg went very, very still. ...You have a name..." she said quietly, a single tear rolling down her face, "You told me you had no name. You're my soul mate and you lied about your name..."

Then it was all over.

Letting go of her hair and gripping the knife with both hands, Meg drove the blade as far up into Christine's ribs as she could. Erik screamed with rage and dashed forward, shoving Meg to the ground and catching Christine as she crumpled to the floor, a thick crimson stain growing rapidly around the hilt of the knife. Meg tried to put her arms around the Phantom, but her grabbed her by the hair and threw her down, knocking her head violently against the floor, refusing to be touched by such a cruel being.

He cradled Christine to his chest, unsure of whether to leave the blade in or withdraw it. After a moment of contemplation, he couldn't bear the sight of the knife still in her, and he kissed her forehead.

"Breathe deeply," he whispered, "this will only take a moment."

Slowly, carefully, he took the knife out of her and dropped it to the floor, eager to get it away from them. Meg appeared beside him.

"Breathe your last, dear rose," she snarled, "the Phantom belongs to me."

Without hesitation, Erik backhanded Meg with all his strength. "Leave my sight forever or die this moment!"

Holding her face, she turned her anger on him, "Why don't you just kill me, then? You're such a good murderer."

"_Leave, now_! If you ever come here again I'll wring your neck and lose no sleep over it!"

Meg saw the truth in his wild, rampaging eyes, and backed away. "I just wanted you to..." her voice trailed off as she felt his hateful stare sink into her bones.

She disappeared after that, and the lovers were left alone.

Erik put pressure on her wound in an attempt to stoop the blood flow as he knelt his forehead against Christine's. "What do I do?" he asked gently, "I don't know what to do..."

Christine shuddered, the sudden blood loss leaving her cold, "Erik..." she touched the hand that covered her wound, "Take off...your glove. I want to feel your touch...one last time."

His mouth quivered as tears began to freely fall from his eyes. "Don't speak such words, Christine."

She lightly tugged at his glove and, after much reluctance, he withdrew his hand and pulled off his gloves. Bringing his fingertips to her cheek, he lightly traced her jaw line before truly holding her head with his bare, frigid hand that was warming quickly from her touch.

She was quiet for a moment, gathering her strength for what she wanted to do next. As she felt her vitality rapidly leaving her body, she knew there was little time left. She reached up and brought his head down to hers so her mouth was next to his ear.

With all the air she could muster, she began to sing. "_Think of me, think of me fondly, when we've said goodbye. Remember me once in a while, please promise me you'll try. When you find that once again you long to take your heart back and be free, if you ever find a moment, spare a thought for me._"

He was sobbing into her shoulder now, grief consuming every part of his body and soul. He clutched her to him with desperation, refusing to accept what was happening as reality.

Despite his disbelief, he found himself singing back to her. "_Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime. Lead me, save me from my solitude. Say you want me with you here, beside you,_" he leaned back to look her in the eyes, "_Anywhere you go, let me go to. Christine, that's all I ask of-_"

She gasped and shuddered, cutting him off. Trembling in his arms, she kissed him tenderly, lingering as long as she could before pulling away.

"Please..." she whispered, growing weaker by the moment, "don't follow me." She managed a faint, loving smile. "I love you, Erik. Think of me."

She let out a slow, calm breath, and closed her eyes.

Christine Daae was no more.

He screamed at the top of his lungs, the pain that racked his body too much to bear internally. He held her tight, stroking her hair and sobbing unabashedly. She couldn't leave him, not again. Being alone and without her love left him with too much darkness, too many shadows. He ripped off his mask and brought her limp hand to his deformity, trying to will life back into her still body.

As his cries echoed throughout his domain, reality crushed his spirit and shattered his every hope. Erik had always been a creature of tragedy, and now he knew the ugly truth.

The Phantom of the Opera was meant to be alone.

He always had been, and always will be.


End file.
